Just in Case
by Ivonnebagel12
Summary: Oliver wants to give Felicity something in case something happens, but Felicity won't have any of that... One-shot, can take place between 2x16 and 2x19.


Just in Case

_So, I'm not 100% sure what inspired this. I guess in 2x19, Oliver's sudden lack of money inspired me to have him carry out a contingency plan for the team. But of course Felicity wouldn't have any of that._

_Haven't written in a while, so it's nice to come back and work with these incredible characters for the first time. Hope I did it justice._

_Also, I totally listened to the Arrow soundtrack while writing this. If you haven't heard it in its entirety, I highly recommend it. Especially the slower, more somber tracks._

_Okay, onto the fic =)_

"Felicity, just take it," Oliver grounded out, his teeth clenched tightly.

The bold line that ran along his gritted jaw would have in most cases left Felicity momentarily distracted, her attention enraptured by the strong angle it formed. How it would allow her eyes to travel down to his neck, where she knew from more danger-filled cases than she could count, she was able to inhale his comforting, warm scent. Not unlike this exact moment of his frustration, she'd find her gaze moving even further down to the taunt muscles of his torso, then back up again to his tightly clamped jaw. Like following a trail of breadcrumbs, she would follow the line, until she met his ever-tortured gaze, beneath those piercing blues.

But tonight was not one of those nights.

"Oliver, _I will not._" She turned on her heel, marching to the computer monitors that awaited her perusal.

Diggle chuckled quietly by Oliver's side. "Looks like I made it too easy for you, man. Maybe I should have put up more of a fight."

Oliver shot him a glare, his fist tightening around the envelop he held.

"Felicity, I don't understand the problem," he said, following her to her workspace. Felicity pointedly ignored him as he stopped a few mere inches away, almost uncomfortably close. "Diggle and Sara understood. They didn't like it, but they understood. Even Roy! And I thought he was going to be the difficult one." His voice lowered to a mumble. "I didn't think you would."

Felicity stopped mid-keystroke, and her fingers curling to clenched balls. "You think this is me being difficult?" With a huff, she pushed away from her chair, moving up to Oliver so she could meet his gaze head-on. She poked a finger heatedly to his chest. "Oh no, sir, this is not me being difficult. Me being difficult goes something along the lines of digging up your tenth grade yearbook, and flooding all the news stations from here to Gotham of that very flattering photo of you stuck in a—"

"Felicity," he whispered, his teeth so tightly clenched it looked painful. "Can we please discuss this?"

Diggle cleared his throat from behind them. "Uh, what kind of photo are we talking about?"

"The mid-puberty kind," Felicity replied, her eyes not leaving Oliver's frustrated gaze. "You know, scrawny. Douche haircut." She smirked. "The acne-filled years."

She couldn't help the flush that heated her cheeks at the sudden thought that that scrawny, playboy-smiling boy was standing before her, a better man now than he would have ever been if it weren't for the hell he'd gone through on that godforsaken island.

Oliver scrubbed a hand over his face, an ounce of the control he struggled to keep a tight lid on slipping. "Just take the money, Felicity!"

"_No!"_ she cried out, as she felt a slight tremor in her jaw.

He sighed heavily, turning away from her so he could look pleadingly at Diggle. His best friend shrugged. "Don't look at me, man. Looks like you'll have to convince her." He turned, heading over to the training area. "_Nicely_," he said over his shoulder as he went.

Oliver scowled, turning back to Felicity. "I just want to make sure that you'll be okay. Just in case  
something—"

Felicity shook her head, her hands fisted once more. She struggled to keep them at her sides. "And I said, _no_. I don't want your money, or—or access to your accounts, even though I can hack into them easier than opening a pickle jar." She made a face, a momentarily break in her rant. "Which, was actually kind of hard the other night, so maybe that's not the best ex—"

"Felicity, please," Oliver said, his voice hitting that soft tenor that left her forgetting her own voice. "I just can't—you guys mean too much to me. I need to know—"

Felicity shook her head, clearing it of his uncanny power over her. "And again, Oliver, I decline." She leaned in and forced the next word out with as much emphasis as she could muster from a previous time she'd felt this much rage. "_Violently_, if you keep insisting this."

He lifted a brow at her, and for the first time in their squabble, amusement tugged at his lips.

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Oliver. You can't be all like, 'Hey, I brought you a coffee, since I know your epic MIT degree makes you leagues above fetching me some. Oh, and by the way, here's a check for 5 million in case I get offed by some deranged psychopath out to get revenge on me,' and expect me to be okay with that!"

As she spoke, he grew somber once more. "Felicity, I need to know you'll be taken care of, if something were to happen…."

She could hear Diggle from across the room, the steady beat of his strong hits as he pounded away at one of the training dummies. As invincible as they all seemed to her, the thought of losing any one of her friends left her very much cold inside. She remembered a very long time ago how it felt, to physically lose someone. To feel that hollowness take root at the base of her being, and sprout to become something that would only grow to cause more pain. She felt the warmth leave her body at the thought, and she wrapped her arms around herself, in an effort to stave off the cold. Something she found herself doing more and more as of late.

Oliver watched as she withdrew. He'd caught glimpses of it before, as their struggle with Slade began to escalate more and more. Now, he could see the emotional toll this was taking on her.

Yet, when she spoke, it was with level assurance. "Nothing is going to happen. Not to me, not to Digg. To Sara or Roy or Thea." She swallowed, emotion threatening to suffocate her. "And definitely not to you." Her voice dropped. "It can't."

Guilt washed through him. He regretted every day bringing her into this. This life. Losing her innocence to crime and corruption and the dark evils that lurked in the city. But every day he would see her smile. Hold the team up with that infinite light that seemed to radiate off of her, each and every time they faced a new adversary. The sass and snark and ever-delightful babbles she would unleash in any instance that would permit. And every day, he was grateful. Grateful that he had her, and Digg and Sara, and even Roy, who he hoped he could help get better. But to see her, giving strength, not physically, but emotionally enough for the five of them, he would never be able to truly repay her.

Oliver slipped his hands over her shoulders, cupping the soft fabric that covered her skin. His thumbs grazed the end of the material, brushing her skin at the neckline. Her head shot up at his touch, their eyes meeting.

"I can't assure that Felicity," he said softly. "Why can't you do this for me? You don't even have to use it right away. You can just deposit it in some secure, off-shore account. Or invest it. I don't care. But when the time comes, and you need it, it'll be there. Because if—" He paused, seeing the look in her eyes. No longer was she defiant in her gaze. The way she was looking at him now, perpetual and forlorn, made him want to crumble in shame.

When she spoke, it was soft and uncharacteristically quiet.

Broken.

"Because, Oliver, if accept your money, your, _'just in case,'_ money, I'm accepting the fact that you may very well _die._ I mean, I'm not naïve. I know what we do here is dangerous work. But is it wrong of me to think that if I just believe, that if I don't let in a shred of doubt, that in the end we'll succeed? Because if I accept that money, I've let in that doubt. And I can't give my all if I have a single doubt that we won't pull through in this. You—" Her eyes flicked down to his chest, her hands rising to lay over his. "—You can't give up. No matter how bad this gets." She paused, her bottom lip struggling to remain still. _"You can't."_

He shook his head. "I wish I believed as much as you do. But I can't help but think like this. Have an exit strategy. Make sure you guys are okay if I'm gone."

A flame lit in her glistening blue eyes, tears dangerously close to falling. "Oh sure, plan for your damn exit from this earth by making sure we've all got a nice little payout. How very thoughtfu—"

"_FELICITY!_" he shouted, his voice bouncing harshly off the Foundry walls, causing her to jump beneath his hold. Digg's steady _thwumps_ against the training dummy faltered, leaving the underground lair quiet with the fading resonance of Oliver's outburst.

Oliver exhaled, a shuddering breath releasing between his teeth. _"Felicity,"_ he repeated, murmuring her name with the same tenor he reserved just for her. He held her gaze, a small smile gracing his features.

His eyes grazed her features, taking in the person he was lucky enough to call his friend. His partner. Someone he cherished deeply. He wouldn't let anything happen to her, not if he could help it. Sometimes he would let thoughts of her lurk into his mind, the 'what ifs' of their complicated relationship. But he would quickly banish them, knowing that part of protecting her involved protecting her from himself. He cared too much about her. Felicity and Diggle. They were a part of his world now, too intricately woven now to be ripped out of it.

And he out of theirs.

He sighed again, understanding her plight. It was selfish of him; to plan for his death for them. It was easy to die. It was hard to go on living. He knew that. With his father. Shado. Tommy. Every day he carried the grief of their passing, and his role in their demise.

So what would he do if he lost any of them? Digg wasn't offering lasting wisdom, or Felicity dishing out tech he could use if something ever happened to her. Not to the degree he was preparing. They weren't planning on defeat. They knew it was possible, but they weren't making it an option. Not like he was by leaving them monetary cushions. They believed in him, just like they always did.

With that revelation, he gathered her into his arms, resting his chin on her head. The stubble on his chin rubbed against the crown of her head. She was stiff when he enveloped her into his arms, but she melted into him quickly enough, needing his warmth and comfort and _just him. _She squeezed him tightly, never wanting to let go.

And he didn't right away, not like she would have thought. Instead, he held onto her tightly, an almost painful pleasure as his scent washed over her like a warm shower. His head shifted back, and so did his hands, but he remained dutifully close. His calloused hands slid to cup the sides of her face, in the most endearing way he would allow, and he pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. She stared back, hope blossoming within her as she saw the realization spark in his eyes.

He understood.

Felicity couldn't retain the gasp that escaped her as he pressed his lips softly to her forehead, lingering there for three heartbeats, before he pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, before pulling back completely. He slipped the envelop, now creased and crinkled to a loose ball, into his back pocket. He would keep it safe for her, not as a contingency in the result of his death, but a promise fulfilled when they came out victorious.

As hard as it was for him, a spark of hope flickered within him.

Felicity gave him a small smile. "Let's just end this, Oliver. Let's kick Team Deathstroke's ass into next week so we can get back to doing what we do best."

Fighting the slight uptick of his lips, Oliver replied exasperatingly, "Not another team name."

There was a chuckle from behind them, and Diggle came over to join them. "Don't worry, Oliver. It'll never be as cool Team Arrow."

Oliver frowned at his words, but his friends could see the amusement in his usually sorrowed gaze.

Diggle crossed his arms over his broad chest, amusement tugging at his features. "So, what was that talk earlier of a tenth grade yearbook photo? Something about being 'stuck' in something, Mr. Queen?"

Oliver gave a slight roll of his eyes, and turned around to sit at his worktable lined with his arsenal of arrows. Felicity answered for him. "Oh, just something I came across when I was peeking into Oliver's childhood, which, I did out of pure curiosity. Not because I'm some creeper that hacks into my boss's personal life or anything. One day I happened to be wondering, 'What did Oliver look like when he was little and before he became this arrow-slinging, hardcore vigilante working leather and the color green' and oh my God that really just came out, didn't it?"

Oliver, who had begun modifying one of his starter arrows, bit the inside of his cheek to remain outwardly neutral to the exchange. Diggle, on the other hand, gave a small chuckle before saying, "The photo, Felicity."

Still flustered, Felicity spun on her heel to tap some keys on her keyboard, pulling up the photo.

Diggle barked a laugh at the image. "Is that really-?"

Felicity nodded, not bothering to hide the grin spread openly across her face. "Oliver stuck in a kiddie swing." She turned to Oliver's stiff form, tinkering away at his arrows. "Dare gone wrong?"

Oliver looked up and met her gaze. The smoldering look he gave her left her breathless and very much warm inside. "Practicing for my future frat boy days."

_I really hope you enjoyed. I figured I would throw in a couple Easter eggs._

_Thank you for reading, and reviews are always welcomed. =)_


End file.
